November 24, 2014
by Anne Miller
Today I saw the best and worst of Australia at the Teelah fire.
I watched as firefighters at the central control point calmly tracked what to my eyes was an enormous fire, burning along a steep valley. They plotted positions and worked their radios to deploy the resources available to them to best advantage. There was no shouting or yelling or drama. Just cool professionalism and even a few jokes.
I watched as rural firefighters – all volunteers – obeyed without question when they were despatched into position, whether down into the valley amongst the smoke or along the ridges to wait patiently for the fire to approach them so they could protect properties …
I watched as they discussed the best way to help a herd of alpacas in the line of fire …
I watched as two pilots skillfully dropped loads of water onto the fire, flying in and out of billowing clouds of smoke in what must have been testing flying conditions …
And I watched as a helicopter pilot steered his craft through the smoke to help direct the firefighters on the ground …
This is the best of Australia. Heroes all of them, whether paid or volunteer, going about their jobs with a calm professionalism.
Now for the worst of Australia …
The first lot was a group of rubberneckers packed into a car, iPhones hanging out the window. Curiosity is natural, so I can almost forgive them …
But the second lot just makes me angry.
In another part of the fire emergency area, I met two men. One I believe was a local resident, while the other had driven over to have a stickybeak at the fire (another rubbernecker).
Two groups of rural firies had just deployed to the area to await the fire that was still below them.
This wasn’t good enough for the two.
The first complained – fortunately out of earshot of the volunteers – that they seemed to be taking things very easy.
The second, sitting in a ute, replied: “We all pay a fire levy so why aren’t they out there fighting the fire! That’s why we pay them.”
I wasn’t part of the conversation, but I had to interject: “They’re all volunteers.”
That didn’t satisfy the ute driver.
“Volunteers … they’re on the dole you mean! They volunteer so they don’t have to look for a job. They’re just standing around – they don’t actually do anything.”
I left the two men whingeing in the middle of the road and drove off.
I couldn’t help but think of the men I had seen earlier at the command centre, selflessly giving their time to protect other people’s homes. Perhaps these men’s homes.
I know one of the rural firies is a farmer, another a retired businessman.
They’re not on the dole, and I’m pretty sure they could have found plenty of better things to do with their time on a hot Monday afternoon than to drive 100km across the South Burnett to fight a bushfire.
I have just one question for the two whingeing bogans.
Why weren’t you wearing a yellow uniform today helping to stop the fire in your own backyard?
